


30 Day Challenge

by Vodka112



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Genderbending, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Mpreg, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 10:44:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 30
Words: 13,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4301724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vodka112/pseuds/Vodka112
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Writing Warm-up. Day 1 to Day 15 was cross posted to tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Holding Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> September 23, 2013

It felt foreign, weird. The warmth in his hand was steady. The grip of their fingers was steady. He could feel his palm sweat.

“Uhm… Draco?”

His husband turned away from the game and raised a brow at him. Ron cleared his throat and his eyes skittered from side to side before gaping at their joined hands. He shyly raised his gaze to meet amused grey orbs. He swallowed and had to stop himself from bringing their hands to his burning nape, a habit he had picked up during his school days. The coldness of his palm would have alleviated the burning of the blood on the skin of his nape, if not on his face.

Draco leered at him, lips tilted in a slight smirk. Ron had learned to stop playing into the slytherin’s tricks. He turned his attention to the game. Whatever his husband had in mind, it could wait. He shifted and fidgeted in his seat. He could almost hear the cogs turning in his husband’s mind.

This has not been the first time they held hands (and they have certainly done more, much more _intimate_ acts) but most of their amorous conduct was done in the privacy of their room. Only recently did it extend to their home. Their time together had always been limited in the past. Everything was rushed and fueled by the on-coming war. They had no time for anything but being together. Now that they were together and recognized by their own circles, Ron had to accept that he did yearn some of the sweetness and innocence of courtship. It seemed moot point to even contemplate. They were married and nothing else was left to be done. They were finally one. What would his husband gain by courting him? What would he?

All the while, he cast sly glances at the blonde. The smirk was still on his face. Ron had learned to read his husband’s expressions but he had never learned to read Draco’s motives. The snake kept his cards far too tightly to himself!

He heard his husband laugh, a low rumbling sound that tore his attention from the game. That laugh was matched by haughty eyes that bore into his. He watched with wide eyes as his husband drew their hands to his lips, kissing the back of Ron’s palms, drifting his lips past each knuckle.

“I live for that blush of yours, darling,” Draco murmured as his fingers tightened their hold over Ron’s.

 


	2. Cuddling Somewhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> September 24, 2013 MPREG

Ronald could never find the warmest spots in the manor. By the time winter came, the red head had taken to wearing layers of robes under his thickest ones. Draco might have remarked at how he resembled the Fat Friar with his robes and thickening waist. It was not one of Draco’s best moments and the hex that nearly bit his arm off might have been more or less deserved.

No one would blame the cranky five-month pregnant wizard. Obviously, it was Draco’s fault.

But it was not his fault he found Ronald’s floundering and waddling for warmer temperatures a tiny bit funny-- Amusing. Funny was not a word to be used in the presence of pregnant folk.

Draco grew up in the manor. He knew which side of the couch in the West Wing Sitting Room offered most warmth (definitely not the side closest to the fireplace) and which corner of the Receiving Hall had their warming spells regularly renewed. Most of all, he knew that the Master’s Suite (previously called the Malfoy Heir Chamber) was the warmest room in the whole manor. Its fireplace was solely used for heating and its voluminous rugs, pillows, short cushioned chairs and blankets were situated right in front of the said fireplace. Draco may or may not have spelled some of them with warming charms. He could never bear to leave his one and only husband floundering about for hours and _cold_ , could he?

So he took to dragging spoils from the Malfoy closets (not by hand. What use would the house elves be if they couldn’t handle fine imported fur and silk?) for his darling’s pleasure and if his husband manages to doze off in minutes into peaceful sleep, then who was he to complain? Additionally, if his fitful husband coincidentally falls asleep in his arms, then there was nothing he could do but tend to his fiery hair (it was getting long) and rub the soreness of his muscles. If he smiles while he does the aforementioned acts, who was awake and magic enough to stop him?


	3. Playing Mock Quidditch (Gaming)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> September 25, 2013

“You won’t get past me, Malfoy!”

The bellow travels across the clearing to Draco, perched on his broomstick way up above the trees. The clearing, and surrounding forests, is Malfoy property and thus appropriately warded against Muggles, pests of the magical and garden variety _and_ the occasional dragon. The mountainous terrain further up north, however, is of a different tale all together.

Draco bellows back, “You got what it takes, Weasley?!” He zooms past grass and heads straight towards the woods. Ronald moves to block him from the snitch glinting under the foliage. Draco nearly breaks his arm when the red-head flew right past him and dislodges his broomstick from its path. The glinting gold disappears and he curses. He can hear Ronald’s mocking laughter above him and races upwards. He yanks the man’s robes to the side but, like the semi-decent player that he is, Ronald just grunts as he twists in his broom. Draco takes the time to zoom past trees and – _There!_

Right between the lavender and monkshood, the snitch flutters inches from the ground. Draco wills his broom full speed towards the snitch. Suddenly he stops. His robes are caught in air, or what he thinks is air. Ronald sneaks the same foul and grasps at the hood of his robes. He glares at the redhead but loses sight of the golden flier. He glares once more at his husband.

Ronald lounges easily on the broomstick but Draco notices his crunched up forehead.

“What are you thinking about?” Draco asks, gliding closer to his husband. Ronald petulantly opens his mouth, most likely with some lame retort going by how sheepish his face is, but Draco cuts him.

“Do not lie and tell me you’re not thinking of anything important. We’re on broomsticks more than 60 feet in the air and playing mock Quidditch. Whatever’s got your attention?”

It was Ronald who glares at him this time. He raises an eyebrow to prompt the man. Finally, Ronald sighs and looks over the horizon.

“I just… I miss _Quidditch_ Quidditch. Not that I don’t like playing with you,” he hastily adds, “But my family’s big – Huge – and when Harry’s there, we always get at least two three-man team’s going.”

Draco scowls.

“Don’t get angry. Being up in the air is fun but think about it. I can’t exactly catch a snitch and you can’t chase a Quaffle past me either. It gets boring with only two people,” Ronald huffs.

A hint of gold shines near Ron’s hair and Draco’s hand automatically swipe at it. He rolls the snitch between his fingers.

“Fine,” he mutters. Ronald looks at him bewildered, “We’ll do that next week. We’ll floo your siblings tomorrow for a fair game of mock Quidditch,” Draco smiles with teeth as he held up the snitch. “In the meantime, I think I have a bet to collect.”


	4. On a Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> September 26, 2013

Ron shifts and fidgets in his chair. He nibbles on his sundae and stares at his table partner.

Ron is puzzled. He may have lost at a battle of Gobstones against the Department of Mysteries informant but of all the ways to extract a penalty…

“ _I was charged with an infiltration task. I think having you as my house elf for the day would be most beneficial…”–_ is what Draco said. So far, neither of them are talking, unless you count the times when Draco decides to visit the Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes (where he whined half the time they stayed) and the Apothecary (where he sneered at _“second grade potion ingredients.”)_ Ron considers it a blessing from Hecate when the blonde’s mouth was kept busy by the delicious treat. It is midday and Draco is still silent about the mission objectives or subjects or anything. In fact…

In fact, if Ron’s intuition is right, they spent half the day strutting about. _On a date._

 _Him_ on a bloody date with a _Malfoy_?!

They are eating sundaes under a sunny spot in Diagon Alley, after shopping for prank items and potion ingredients. Ron feels like his mind would explode if they end up buying new robes at Madam Malkin’s or visiting the youngest local attraction in Diagon Alley, _the Gathering_. It is a perfectly square building of black stone located only two blocks from Gringott’s. Ron can spy a sliver of black from where he sits.

He hopes Draco means them to infiltrate the night tavern. He returns his attention to the blond who had only just finished his sundae. Ron’s eyebrows meet for a brief moment before he tears through his sundae with gusto. _‘Odd,’_ he thinks. Malfoy finished eating before he did. He never finishes a meal last (not when you grew up with five older brothers and a sister all in one roof.)

“When you’re done, we’re going to Twilfitt and Tattings. I need new robes,” Draco drawls from his seat.

Ron nearly chokes on his sundae. He manages to gulp down the sweet. He prays to Merlin, Hecate, the Matrones, and just about every deity he can think of, that he not be given Seer abilities. He may have taken Divination till Fifth year but that’s it!


	5. Kissing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> September 27, 2013

Snogging shouldn’t hurt, should it? Ron’s back scraped the wall and he could feel exactly where his robes were caught on the weathered bricks. His scalp stung where Draco yanked his hair. His lips burned and ached. Just like parts of his neck where Draco currently sucked and nibbled new bruises. The hands on his hip and elbow were tight. Possessive. Restrictive. Binding.

But he mewled when Draco’s lips planted themselves on his collarbone. He whimpered when Draco held him against the wall away from the friction he chased. He whined and yelped and groaned, till he grabbed Draco’s hair. Burning silver eyes and equally flushed face.

“More… Just a bit more…” Draco begged.

Ron ravished his mouth and they were back where they started.


	6. Wearing Each Other's Clothes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> September 28, 2013  
> The second part is a salute to ['I Hate You'](http://archiveofourown.org/works/275934/chapters/437312) by Fluffy_subtext.

Ron coughs. He hopes it’s enough to mask his laughter.

“If you bloody laugh, I’ll hex you,” Draco growls from where he waddles… shuffles… wobbles beside Ron. Only by threat of a curse does Ron stop sniggering. He tries hard to look straight ahead where a very muggle restaurant resides. Dean and Seamus help the _“Research about Muggles” Act_ by opening a restaurant in a non-magic community. Their customers are a mix of muggle and magic and the restaurant is currently a favorite haunt of muggleborns, as well as Pureblood kids who lost some bet one way or the other.

Quite like Draco.

Ron chokes on his spit when he tries to snort and un-snort at the same time. Draco’s hexes are no small business. Draco sighs and pats his back to get him breathing again. The prat pats one too hard when he is sure Ron will live.

They enter the establishment and a bell rings right above them. Ron ignores Draco in favor of greeting his old dorm mate. They hug, exchange some news ( _“Yeah, my sis' ready to pop!”_ and _“Scared Harry eh?”_ ) and Seamus leads them to the farthest, most private table. Seamus scrunches up his nose at the blond but only because the git is sneering and leering at everything ever since they stepped in. Ron signals at Seamus, _“Bad mood. Laughed at him earlier. Sorry.”_ Seamus mouths back, _“Its fine”_ and takes their orders. Seamus then winks at Ron before signaling, _“He looks fit in it, yeah?”_ Ron blushes to his ears before shooing his friend away.

He spies Draco from beside him. Not that hard since the table is triangular in shape, its longest side facing the neighboring alley and its _graph-feet-y_. He knows how the blond looks. He fit him in those clothes himself, some denim jeans and a too-tight v-necked shirt with an image of a green apple on the front. The apple is supposed to say _“I’m with this person”_ with an arrow pointing to Ron but now it’s just an apple. Ron retaliates by changing his earlier on as well. On his chest is a proud roaring lion. If not for the muggles around them, he will make it move too but he is satisfied at stopping Draco from changing his apple to a snake. It’s rare to win against the Malfoy so many times in a row that he backs down when Draco wears dragonhide boots and a wizard cloak. It matters little for the evening anyway since the coats are hung up on the entrance and dragonhide boots looks like muggle leather ones. Ron may be slightly partial to the way the boots wrap around Draco’s leg. The pants are tight enough but the shirt lays so low that a small tuft of soft blond hair peeks out. This may be Ron’s greatest achievement ever.

Until Draco scowls so much he starts to look like a troll. Like he does now actually. His silver eyes bore into Ron’s as if he wants to petrify the redhead but Ron doesn’t rise to the bait. He just thinks about how Malfoy shuffled in his pants out in the streets and he feels much better already. Merlin! He’s storing that memory for life!

Draco snorts.

“Don’t forget,” he drawls, “We dine at Pansy’s next week.”

Ron visibly stiffens at this.

“Formal robes are required,” the blond smirks at him.

 

* * *

 

Ronald fidgets in his robes and scratches his wrists. Draco snatches his hand and spreads his fingers like a web. He snakes each slender digit around Ron’s.

“Stop,” Draco murmurs in his ear.

“Its bad decorum, I know,” Ron hisses back as he raises their linked hands to swat at his ear. Draco sneers, only because Ronald’s ears are beet red despite his long frown.

The concierge leads them to their booth, a curtained table away from prying ears but not for peeking eyes. Draco adores the way Ronald walks. His tight muggle clothes had been fun to watch ( _How he squeezes himself in those pants every day!)_ but his Ronald is made to be swathed with cloths and flowing garments. His robes billow behind him, rippling like water. In a moment of insanity, Draco fits him in sparkly, slightly greenish white robes with green silk linings accented by a silver tunic with tiny emerald scale clasps. His belt bears the Malfoy insignia which sways around his knees. Draco is not worried. The craftier, bejeweled crest of his family resides on the belt’s clasp, tantalizingly near where Draco hopes to get a hold of after dinner.

Draco amuses himself with the redhead’s irritation. Ronald knows not which clasps go where and Draco covets the joy of showing him the intricacies of proper magic clothing. He watches, entranced as the concierge stops and Ronald gracefully ends their procession. Draco smirks at the number of patrons craning their necks for a peek at his Weasley. Not that the patrons know who he is at the moment. Ronald’s errant mane is tied in a low ponytail that swishes with every dance of his robes. Does he not see himself? How the material reveals just enough shape for the imagination?

But Ronald’s body is always fit, especially now that he is gearing up for another Auror mission. Draco resists the urge to scrunch his eyebrows. This evening is dedicated to Hecate and her wonderful gift of magic. Tonight is dedicated to celebrating her numerous blessing and Draco intends to fully celebrate his.


	7. Cosplaying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> September 29, 2013  
> Unreliable narrator and side Hermione/Percy

The Ministry’s 53rd Masquerade Gala starts just as Ron trips through shadowed doors. He hears Percy click his tongue at him. He snarls at his brother before heading straight to the hors d’oeuvre. His lips twist sinisterly at the couples dancing and groups congregating all over the place. He adjusts his charmed mask in place and snorts to himself.

In his opinion, this gala is nothing but a room of hot air. He spies two businessmen nodding in one corner and he hears the murmurs of power hungry ministry officials in another. He abhors the pinched laughter of a few witches behind him.

It is not even a real masquerade ball. Some purebloods and higher-ranked officials have taken off their masks (better to be easily recognized when buttering each other up.) Harry is right to skip this party… But he should not have passed the invitation to Ron!

His eyes roam around, hoping to talk to Hermione a bit before leaving early. He only came to the party to make sure no one gives her a hard time. It’s not that she cannot defend herself but two wands are better than one, right?

Someone taps on his shoulder and he turns around. A lady with tight, cream dress robes appear beside him, white ribbons, lace and sashes wrap deliciously around her body. Ron takes a moment to admire the charmed gossamer wings attached to her back. They flutter in a non-existent gentle breeze, glinting and shining in a rainbow of colors.

“Hullo,” he croaks. He coughs because his voice sounded far too deep and hoarse.

“Ron, it’s me,” the witch replies with Hermione’s fast clipped words.

Ron smiles, his first and probably last for this evening.

“You’ve outdone yourself!” he murmurs excitedly as he twirls his finger. Hermione spins for him, her smile contagious and her robes flowing about her in an ethereal way. Ron notices how she charmed her hair into softness, pliable and light as it dances around her face.

“Of course I would,” she jokingly chastises him, “I hope you didn’t infuriate your brother too much,” at this, she nibbles her bottom lip. “I’ve been trying to find him all evening and now that he’s here, he throws me to you,” she pouts. She straightens up instantly and hastily adds, “Not that I didn’t want to see you at all. I would’ve still searched for you.”

“Its okay, Herm, I get it,” Ron nods. Hermione nods back. A wizard in burgundy robes gestures for her to come back. Look at that, it’s Percy. Hermione goes into a small frenzy of finishing her drink to hugging and fussing over Ron. They laugh as they part and she traipses back to the mingling crowds. _‘Three wands then,’_ Ron thinks as he catches a glimpse of Percy sticking closer to the winged witch.

Ron manages to map out the hors d’oeuvre table in three revolutions and in more mixed glasses of Firewhiskey, mulled mead and pumpkin juice. He wants to grab a butterbeer (just one more) but he restrains himself. The liquids are already wreaking havoc in his veins, making his eyes bright and his mouth fuzzy. There is also a buzzing whistle in his ear or it may just be in his mind. _'Maybe in a few minutes, right before I apparate outta here,'_ he promises to himself. He takes to lurking in the shadows, eyes flitting back and forth, always looking at Hermione and the folks around her. He relaxes when the second hour is gone. He slumps against the wall and closes his eyes. When he opens them, he knows he will wave at Herm and Perce, before heading to the Apparition room. When he does open his eyes, he is blinded by a silver green scaled and horned mask followed by bright silver robes. He jumps in surprise and flinches when cold fingers grip his wrist.

“I told you to look for me,” the wizard drawls.

Ron smirks, “You were too chummy with your friends. Wasn’t tempted enough.”

Ron imagines the grey eyes in the mask widen and darken with worry.

“You’re sloshed,” the wizard drawls again.

“So what if I am?” Ron snaps. He fumbles with his wrist, trying to dislodge the fingers. He keeps his struggles as small as possible but when his hand ends up slapping the wall, he gives up and allows himself to be tugged away.

“You’re going home,” the wizard’s silky voice floats from before him. He opens his mouth to protest but a sudden whirl of wind and the jerking on his navel stops him.

He lands on his feet, thank Merlin, in the Malfoy Manor. He tugs on his arm hard enough to free himself and stomps off to his own quarters.

“You didn’t wear what I sent you,” Draco whines from where he trails after Ron.

“Didn’t need to. Had my own,” Ron mumbles, fingers already loosening the clasps of his blood red robes. He tears the mask from his face, yellow and black striped with fur and whiskers. Hermione may have helped him with the cat ears and tail charms. He flicks the mask to hit Draco in the face. He misses and hits the blond on his chest.

“At least I kept your mask,” Ron grinds out. He turns but stops himself and leans in the wall for support. He feels Draco’s arms wrap around him and the blond starts backing him out into the hallway.

“You don’t even know where you’re going,” the blond said. It doesn’t matter that Ron can’t see his face. He hears the sneer in his voice.

“I can!” Ron insists and wriggles in the blonde’s grasp. After a while, he stops and frowns. Liquids burn under his skin and the leathery, water-like material of Draco’s robes provides temporary relief. Ron’s head feels heavier with each step that by the end of it, he happily snuggles in the crook between the blonde’s neck and shoulder. The cold is bliss.

The blond struggles under his weight and even then, he gently lays the redhead down on the bed. He moves to go away but hesitates. He moves his lips closer to Ron’s ear as he presses a hand to his lover’s cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

“Tell me that when I’m sober,” Ron replies after a moment of silence. Draco huffs ( _‘In relief?’_ Ron asks himself seconds after he scoots away from the hot air.) Draco moves back enough for Ron to see him smiling.

“Will do,” Draco promises.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Herm= Butterfly, Draco= Water Dragon, Ron= Tiger, Percy=?


	8. Shopping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> September 30, 2013

Draco was perusing materials as Ron slowly backed out of the door.

“You stay right where you are,” Draco growled at him. He stood still. Draco threw a glare at him before going back to fuss about the different colored cloths.

Ron swore it wasn’t his fault. Well, not entirely his anyway. It was an accident! He had only run down to the potion labs for a quick healing salve. The dungeons were the most dimly lit area of the Manor. How could he have known Draco was working in that particular lab? He did see the potion bubbling in one of the cauldrons and unwisely took a testing whiff. He was knocked out in a matter of seconds.

When he came to, he was lying on their bed and the private healer, a gnarled wizard with too large spectacles, had roused him with salts and mild herbs. A worried Draco fluttered by in the background as the healer shot question after question in his still pounding head. Once he was deemed cured and healthy, the healer took off like lightning.

“What in Hecate’s three realms possessed you to sniff an unknown potion?!” Draco exploded in his face. One thing led to another. By the end of it, they had destroyed a rug, a chair, a couple of china figurines, some pillows and multiple sheets. The fight was vicious. Draco won (no surprise there) and as punishment, he made Ron promise to join him shopping for new sheets, draperies and robes. Ronald had turned to study the blond and sure enough, a stain as large as Hagrid’s beard covered the front of his robes.

Why in Merlin’s name would Draco wear such expensive dressrobes while brewing potions? His blond just raised one light brow at him and went on his way. True to his word, Draco had led him to Twilfitt and Tattings’ by the end of the week. The old and weathered blokes bent over their stiff backs trying to please the Malfoy heir.

As much as Ron would like to stick close to his ponce of a lover, he had the misfortune of mentioning Gladrags Wizardwear in one of his complaints. The blond’s glare was icy cold and his smirk promised heavier retribution. Ron could feel the hair prickling at the back of his neck and chill dribbling down his spine. Draco had a plan that Ron did not want to stay and find out.


	9. Hanging Out With Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> October 1, 2013   
> mentions of MPREG

Ron swallowed some more tea. The atmosphere in the sitting room was tense. Everyone was quiet and eyeing each other through narrowed eyes. At last, Ron couldn’t take it anymore and smiled while he asked Pansy about her daily affairs.

“It was fine. Tedious but we can’t all go on unpredictable adventures, can we?” Pansy answered with all her teeth. Ron could feel himself getting smaller by the minute. He cleared his throat and addressed Blaise instead.

“How was your trip to the Americas, Blaise?”

“The usual. Stocks are rising for a change. My resorts are getting more publicity from the locals and some Asian witches. A good thing too, since the witches bring their partners and friends with them,” Blaise turned to Draco, “I’ve been asking you to invest in my island resort for forever. You’re disappointing Draco.”

“Why, Zabini?” Theo answered, “Having financial troubles already?”

Blaise’s smile turned slightly feral.

“Not at all, Theo. Not at all,” but he looked pointedly at Draco.

“We’ll discuss this at length later,” Draco replied.

“Of course you will. Do not assume we have forgotten the ingredients to _that_ particular potion,” Pansy openly leered at Ron, “There needs to be an heir after all.”

The hair at the back of Ron’s head stood up. He and Pansy had gotten better together these last couple of months but she would not stop about that damned potion!

Hermione immediately asked, “What potion?”

Pansy sent her an icy glare.

“None of your concern at the present time Miss Granger,” Draco intervened. When Hermione’s lips opened to complain, he held up a hand to silence her, “But if you desire the knowledge, I will have the titles of the books from which this potion is mentioned owled to your address.”

Hermione nodded before going back to her tea. Ron sighed as it seemed that Hermione was placated. Harry has not said anything since he sat on the couch.

“How are you, Potter?” Draco sneered.

“Fine, Malfoy,” Harry glared.

A few minutes of uncomfortable silence followed. Ron fidgeted in his chair before excusing himself for the loo. He made a beeline for the door and disappeared into the hallway. Draco followed suit. Sure that the blond was out of earshot, Pansy let out a low chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” Harry snapped.

Pansy’s eyes shone fear for a split second before turning into dark pits.

“It’s a private joke between me and Ronald,” Pansy answered in curt, cut tones.

“I do not see him laughing,” Harry coolly responded.

Pansy smiled beautifully and with all her teeth again. “Of course,” she said, “Did you not see him leave? Your glasses must be ancient.”


	10. With Animal Ears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> October 2, 2013  
> mentions of genderbend

Ron could feel his face burning. He glared at the floor.

“Really, Weasley. A bet’s a bet. Surely, you’re not backing off now?” Draco grumbled behind his ear.

“Of course not, Malfoy,” Ron hisses back.

Here he was, kneeling on the bed with just his night gown on. He knew his cat ears (CAT EARS!) were twitching with anxiety and silent anger. His puffed tail has been whipping to and fro, never content to stay at one place.

He recalled the bet from last week. The Auror department teamed up with the Unspeakables again. Ron was partnered with Draco to investigate a couple of wizards meeting at a lodge in Knockturn alley. These wizards would disappear for days at a time and during those days a couple of witches would be seen gallivanting about in Diagon Alley. Ron bet the blokes were having affairs with the witches. Draco bet they were trying out illegal self-altering potions. The wizards showed up in St. Mungos’ Potions Accident Ward before the week was out. Draco was right. Both wizards confessed on conducting experiments about a gender changing potion, variants of which had been made illegal by the ministry due to obvious misuse. (It was a hush-hush matter that the ministry only uses the gender-changing potion for extreme witness protection cases. The effects are irreversible and awful side effects from a poorly brewed one can and will include: impotency, nausea, misplacement of organs and disfigurement of the body.)

The two blokes were trying to create a recreational version for the seedier parts of the Alley. It would have brought them cart loads of galleons had their most potent ingredient not come back to bite their bloody arses. They developed immunity to their crafted antidote after the twelfth trial and could not change back.

Draco had laughed at the wizards’ misfortune (witches now) before steering Ron out of the hospital. Now, here they were.

“Are you angry I laughed at those bloody amateurs?” Draco murmured against his neck. Ron thought about it for a second.

“No,” he replied and shrugged.

“Good. They were stupid to use snake venom. Fish eggs would have worked better, faster, and the effects would disappear after an hour. Should be good enough for a few rounds right?” Draco whispered as he mouths Ron’s nape, “Besides, animal appendages are the new hype in Knockturn.”


	11. Wearing Kigurumi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> October 3, 2013

“I’m an Unspeakable! This is outrageous!” Draco seethes as he puts on the damned muggle clothing.

“There’s not much of a choice, is there?” Ronald bites his lower lip as he speaks. He easily discards his robes and shrinks them into a hidden pocket in his muggle underclothes. Draco admits he likes seeing those tight underclothes on his Ronald but the cloth is too constricting, too itchy, _too muggle_ for his refined tastes. He stops putting on the disgusting material.

“Oi! Stop spacing out! The faster we do this, the better,” Ronald scolds from the body bag resembling a wolf, complete with ears and tail. Draco glares at him for good measure.

“If it makes you feel better, you know your animal is a crocodile, right?” Ron snorts and coughs, “It’s practically a baby dragon.”


	12. Making Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> October 4, 2013

The winter air is harsh against their cheeks. The ice crunches under their boots. Draco tries not to jostle the tree too much lest it shower them with snow. His arms cage in the redhead, giving him no place to go. By the tightness of his fists on Draco’s school robes, Draco supposes his Ginger doesn’t want to escape. Their lips crash, slip and slide, skin against skin. They break up for air.

Ronald’s eyes are deep and dark, a summer and cloudless sky, as they stare dazedly back at his. He ponders if Ron falls into his grey eyes as much as he drowns in _blue_ when Ronald’s flushed face inches closer, his golden eyelashes fluttering close and his breath so tantalizingly close the mist blurs the vision. Draco closes the distance and melds them together once more…


	13. Eating Ice Cream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> October 5, 2013

Draco’s brows furl and meet together. He sneers at his half-eaten delicacy. He is sure he only ate a few spoonfuls and he always buys an extra scoop.

He peers at Ronald sideways. His Ginger is still busy eating his own treat, nearly demolishing the whole serving by the mouthful. For the first time in weeks, his husband has a content smile on his face. The ice cream is working like a miracle. Draco doesn’t mind. If his Ginger is happy, he is as well.

Draco lowers his spoon and turns to study other couples strolling around Diagon Alley. When he comes to (not like he lost his focus or anything) his spoon clinks against an empty bowl. He sneers and pushes the bowl away. He straightens his robes as he spies his husband.

Does Ronald think he can hide his mischievous smiles? To this, Draco only finds amusement. He is already devising ways of getting back at the glutton.

Oh, how he loves the redhead…


	14. Genderbend/Genderswapped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> October 6, 2013

“Stop staring, _Weasley_ ,” the blonde’s bored, throbbing voice reprimands Raven as she stirs the cauldron with precise strokes of the wooden spoon. Raven goes back to crushing her beetles. The rare fire from a lit-up torch flickers. She tries but fails to keep her attention to the beetles, one of which successfully scuttles over and under the table.

Aquila’s beautiful, glowing, blond hair glows in torch light. Not even the gloominess of the Potions laboratory dims the halo around her. It is mesmerizing.

Raven is so jealous! Her hair is frizzy and splits at the ends. She keeps it short because only cunning witches in her family can keep their’s long, especially with Fea and Nem’s constant pranks. They manage to curse the combs again this summer!

Aquila’s hair is different. It is long and it shines, almost like water. If she leans in enough, a light sweet fragrance drifts to her nose. It’s intoxicating—

“Weasley, those beetles are precious. Catch them. I wouldn’t want to be caught dead in detention with you,” Aquila snaps her out of her daydreams.

Her face colors into a wonderful shade of red before ducking under the table, petrifying as many beetles as she can.

 _'That was so embarrassing,'_ she thought. _'To be caught staring (_ sniffing! _) by a Malfoy, no less!'_


	15. In a different clothing style

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> October 7, 2013   
> Ron as a black knight

Ronald laughs and laughs. The Malfoy heir boasts to be the greatest warlock in existence but put him in armor and he’s nothing but a baby!

“Stop laughing, you imbecile!”

Ronald fires an Incendio at him. Draco raises his sword like a wand and manages a weak Protego. The Incendio burns through that and Draco curls around himself for cover. He feels the spell hit him… and bounce off. He spares an eye to look around him and straightens up when he sees the grass by his feet burning. He reaches for his wand to put out the fire.

“You are nothing here, Malfoy,” Ronald spits at the ground. He walks over to the surprised man. “Be grateful your mother sent you such a nice armor,” Ronald touches the metal with the tips of his fingers, “Otherwise, you’ll be dead plenty of times over.”

“Continue on,” Ronald growls as he returns to his seat, a comfy rock by the side of the small clearing, “Maybe you’ll actually manage to lift that bloody axe.”


	16. Morning ritual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> October 8, 2013

Mornings are difficult in the Malfoy Manor. Narcissa expects both heirs at breakfast by 9am. They may not be in full dress robes, unlike during dinnertime, but a slight up in decorum is expected. It does not help that Draco hoards the bathroom all morning.

Ron does not know what goes on in there or if Draco shits a dragon to take that long in the bath. He does not remember a time, except during the Quidditch Match and family feasts, that he had to wake at the crack of dawn to dress up for breakfast. It was a whole new world in the manor.

Ron curses himself when he did not ask for a second bathroom.


	17. Spooning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> October 9, 2013

Draco wonders if Ronald knows he twists and turns in bed multiple times during the night. For a whole month of sharing a bed, Draco is this close to giving up and getting a separate room. Ronald does not only twist and turn, he also snores. At some point he also yells out, half awake from his nightmare and mumbles back to sleep after.

Draco prides himself in sleeping in one position and waking up not having moved a bit. He also takes the pleasure of knowing he is pretty much aware at the moment of waking. He may be cranky, but he’s aware of his actions. The nightmares come before sleep. Just like today. Just like any other day. If he is alone, he knows he will not sleep. Not without a dreamless sleeping draught. There is a reason he keeps working in the dungeons till late in the evening. The more exhausted he is, the better and earlier he sleeps.

Now he’s just awake. His husband shuffles and sniffles beside him. Sooner or later he will yell out either _“Harry!”_ or _“Hermione!”_ or _“Spiders!”_

Draco wants his nightly vigils to stop. He wants the peaceful sleep unbridled by visions of cloaks and green light. He wants to sleep.

“Draco…”

Draco turns to his husband. The man is still asleep but he mumbles and moans, all broken words and makes no sense. But Draco had been to that dream before and the look on his beloved’s face is heart breaking. He shakes the redhead awake. He mumbles and his eyes are a bit watery when he jerks them open. His whole body shakes.

Draco brushes Ronald’s hair, soothing the redhead with a soft voice carrying calming thoughts. The redhead doesn’t stop shaking and he won’t turn to Draco. Ronald presses his face into the pillows and moans.

Draco shuffles over to his side immediately. His arms snakes around Ron’s chest and the other continues the job of petting his red hair. He molds his body around his husband. His leg wraps around a leg and cross at the ankle. His other leg slides between his husband’s. He moves his hand in comforting circles on Ronald’s chest, the other wipes at the tears on his cheeks.

“Draco,” Ronald croaks as he grasps the hand in his hair with both of his. The shaking subsides but not completely. Light tremors rack up his body and make him hitch his breath.

“Shh. I have you. It’s alright,” he croons in his husband’s ear. Ronald lets himself be smothered by the limbs tangled with his. The minutes trickle by and Ronald stops trembling. His body goes slack with deep sleep and he goes back to snuffling and snoring.

Draco does not let go this time. _‘Maybe,’_ he thinks, _‘I should…’_ He finishes the thought by closing his eyes. When he opens them again, tendrils of light are slipping in through gaps under the curtains. Ronald turned in his sleep. Both are wrapped around each other like the giant squid and his face mashed against his chest.

It seems he found a cure for the sleepless nights. He stays awake long enough to send the house elf away. Mother shall not reprimand him for missing breakfast. He has hours of sleep to catch up to.


	18. Doing Something Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> October 10, 2013

Ron breathes the flowers in. The garden thrives in the summer. The breeze makes the trees and plants sway and dance. Draco pats his arm, a signal to move on. He looks at the blonde. He carries a pouch on his side to harvest some herbs. Ron carries the silver dagger and shears.

The morning air touches his cheeks and he smiles. The garden is both a feast for the senses and potion ingredients store. Draco settles on the grass. His knees are deep in the dew-moist soil. Ron knows he won’t mind, not when they’re wearing gardening robes. He checks the plant for maturity and imperfections. He nods and lifts his gloved palm. Ron lays the shears on his hand and Draco nips first the leaves, then the stem. He keeps the buds attached for longer shelf life. HE digs his fingers around to grasp for the roots and harvests those as well.

The two continue their stroll through the garden.


	19. Formal Attire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> October 13, 2013  
> Mpreg if you squint really hard.

“Ronald.”

Draco’s voice bites at Ron’s ear. He swallows and tries hard not to flinch or fidget. Draco sighs and dismisses the painter with a wave of his hand. With the painter gone, Ron slumps in his chair and sighs happily.

“Ronald, what do I have to do to make you stop squirming, short of petrifying you?” Draco mourns.

He scoffs at Draco’s face. His husband will not petrify him because then the painting would not move. He risks a glance at his lover. Draco answers by raising his brow. _‘Hello, dear old friend. Quite nice to see you again,’_ Ron thinks. Draco gives him the stink eye constantly these days.

“I want to eat. Muffy! Oh, there you are--”

“You are not eating. Go away, Wimpy.”

“I will! I’m hungry. Any snack will do, Muffy.”

“The creature’s name is Wimpy. Don’t you—Blast it!”

Draco stomps his purple-toed foot and nearly growls at Ron. Muffy apparatus back with fresh baked sugar cookies and afternoon tea. Ron momentarily forgets the fuming dragon as he snatches the treat.

“Ha! Thank you, Muffy,” Ron exclaims before biting down on a cookie. Draco quivers as tiny crumbs cascade down the front of Ron’s dress robes. Draco shifts his glare to the house elf.

“You’ve betrayed me, Wimpy,” Draco snaps.

“Don’t punish yourself, Muffy. You’re alright,” Ron hurries to say before the house elf grabs the nearest furniture. Muffy whimpers in thanks before popping off.

“How many of my house elves are you going to turn against me, Ronald?” Draco grit through his teeth.

Ron sniggers at him before wolfing down another cookie.

“I crave these,” Ron cheekily answers, waving a piece at Draco. The blonde visibly relaxes to lounge with his beloved on the sofa. He mixes Ron’s tea for him and sets their tea on each of his knees.

“Fanks,” Ron says as he inhales his last cookie and gulps the tea in one.


	20. Dancing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> October 13, 2013

“Keep it up, Ronald. You can do this,” Draco encourages his partner. Ronald groans in answer.

“Chin up,” Draco says. Ronald raises his chin, looking a little green.

“Are you alright?” Draco asks as he stops twirling them around. He cradles the redhead’s face in his hands.

“I think I’m gonna _hurl_ ,” Ronald confesses in between big gulps of air. HE extricates himself from Draco and runs to the nearest toilet. Draco trails behind him. Who knew doing the waltz and a turn would make his lover sick up all over himself?


	21. Cooking/Baking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> October 13, 2013

“Haha! You’re clueless at cooking, Draco!” Ronald enjoys himself at Draco’s expense.

“I’m glad you find this funny, Ronald,” Draco spoke in clipped tones. He loses his grip on a skinned potato and the vegetable launches up in the air before landing splat by their feet. They both stare at the sorry root. The forlorn expression on Draco’s face triggers more giggling from his oh-so-mature husband. After a while, he calms down enough to speak.

“Let me help,” he says.

“I can handle this,” Draco replies. He wants to say yes but Ronald’s voice has an amused lilt to it and it grates at something deep inside his chest.

“C’mon Draco. I’ve been waiting for that salad for ages! We can’t eat at all if you don’t let me help,” Ronald bargains.

Draco grudgingly accepts defeat.

“Muffy, could you prepare the butter in the tray?” Ron efficiently orders as he flicks his wand at the potatoes. They immediately peel themselves. He points his wand to the eggs, which crack on a bowl while the shells clean themselves away. He waves his wand to more knives that float to join its sibling in slicing the chosen vegetables. Draco sits back and scowls.

Ronald huffs and marches for the blueberry jam. The house elf hands him a spoon before Draco can stop him. He dips the spoon into the jar.

“It’s my appetizer,” Ronald reasons when Draco glares at him. The intense stare mellows to something soft and sweet.

“Just one spoon,” Draco says. Ronald happily licks at his spoon.


	22. In Battle, Side-by-Side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> October 14, 2013

Draco’s rapid fire of dark curses fell plenty of Rippers. Ron threw every bit of dark and light magic he knew. Silent _Petrificus Totalus_ and plenty of grunted _Stupefy_ peppered the night.

Halfway through the battle, Ron slowed down. There were too many muggles, too many Rippers, for two full-fledged warlocks to take care of. Ron wondered if the ministry received his patronus. The Rippers procured their magic-sucking devices, hand-held shooters that can shatter a witch or wizard’s core in a matter of seconds. Ron had the misfortune of experiencing his magical death a few months back. He had no intention of experiencing it again. Ron threw a shield charm over Draco in time.

The battle has moved from the center of the dungeon, where Ron and Draco fought back to back, to one of the corners where nothing but brick wall can harm them. Being cornered by Rippers, who wore strong magic repelling armor, made the situation dire for the warlocks.

Ron had never been so relieved to hear loud pops and swishing cloaks over yelled curses. He could hear Draco cursing the wizard informant behind this scandal. Ron couldn’t agree more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: This came from an Au I’ve been trying to write about. It’s a Heist AU where old pals Harry Potter of the House of Potters and Ronald Weasley infiltrate various public wizarding buildings just because they can. Harry grew up with Sirius and developed a healthy appetite for adventure and mischief. One night, they decided to hit the famous Malfoy Manor. They easily slip in through the wards. Unfortunately for them, the Malfoy heir went home early from the ministry gala and they were caught. From then on, Ron tried to uncover a conspiracy in the ministry involving the elusive Master of the Houses of Gaunt and Slytherin. He falls for Draco btw for a fine romantic twist. Grab a copy from your local bookstores in never. Or access the site for updates in maybe forever. OTL I have bad work ethics.


	23. Arguing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> October 16, 2013

It was a cold night. Ron hurried to the seventh floor corridor. He passed by a hallway three times before a door appeared. He grabbed the handle and rushed inside. The door closed behind him before melting into the castle walls.

The room changed. Ron’s steps halted in hard stone floor. There was a single torch and a circular table in the chamber. There were two wooden chairs. Draco claimed one already, his knuckles white from gripping the arm rest. A chill settled in Ron’s lower back.

Draco jumped from his seat. He opened his eyes to speak and stopped. He tried again.

“Why don’t you sit down first?” he said. Ron rubbed at his arms.

“No. I’m fine where I am,” Ron said, “What did you want to talk about?”

Ron could feel his jaw aching from the sight of Draco clenching his. He could feel his teeth grinding. Draco’s eyes turned hard steel as he looked away from Ron.

“I think we should part ways,” he said. Ron felt his heart drop to his stomach.

“Y-yeah?... Yeah, s’pose…” Ron said.

“We’re at opposite ends of this war, Weasley,” Draco snapped, “They took father to Azkaban yesterday.”

Ron took a deep breath. His eyes stared at the table set before him while his mind reeled with the revelation.

“I cannot let this continue. I know you shouldn’t—“

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do,” Ron growled under his breath. Tiny tremors ran down his arms to his fists.

“My father is in Azkaban,” Draco said, “because of you and Potter’s little band of misfits!”

“Your father is Death Eater scum!” Ron yelled back. They were standing much closer than they did before. Ron towered over Draco easily.

“He is my father!” Draco bellowed, “And Harry will die when You-Know-Who gets his way--”

“He won’t! Dumbledore won’t allow it!”

“Dumbledore is an old coot! His end is imminent.”

“…I won’t. I won’t let Harry die.”

Draco looked straight into his eyes, searching. He must not have found it, whatever it was. He stepped back and brushed the lint off his robes.

“You’re choosing the quickest way to die, Weasley,” he muttered under his breath.

Ron’s chest heaved. He did not have the words to say whatever it was he wanted.

“I thought I should give you a fair warning. The last you will receive from me. From now on, you will be given nothing but pain, Weasley,” Draco said, his voice soft and his eyes cold.

“How noble of you,” Ron spit out after a moment of stunned silence. Draco hesitated before stepping closer to the wall. A door immediately materialized beside him.

“Only some people can hope to ever come close to being me,” Draco sneered, “but, for my conscience, I hope you don’t think of me too ill or of you too innocent. We both knew how this would end…” Draco grasped the door handle. He made to push the door and hesitated.

“And acting like a bitter aborted lover is not like you at all,” Draco said.

He disappeared behind the door. Moments after, a chair crashed on the wall exactly where Draco stood. Another chair followed that, and then a table. Clay pots and ceramic vases appeared on magical shelves that lined the room. Those soared into the air and landed in a pile of dust and sharp rubble.

Ron did not remember how long it took him to get to his senses. The torch kept providing light on the wreckage Ron caused. His eyes were straining and he couldn’t see straight. His throat felt tight and rough. He somehow managed to sneak back in the dormitory and into his bed and join Harry in crying himself to sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an excerpt from another AU I planned to write. It’s supposed to have mpreg. And underage sex which makes me very anxious.


	24. Making-up Afterwards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> October 16, 2013 NSFW

His magic was still frizzy and fuzzy. Ron lay on his bunker in the hospital wing. He could feel his magic web out and expand out of his body, spread so thin he can make himself a squib with the wrong spell. That’s how he felt like anyway. He didn’t doubt Madame Pomfrey’s cures after all. Not even a bit.

The door to the infirmary creaked. Ron jerked into alertness. Who would visit him tonight, this close to the Quidditch match? There was a muffled mumble somewhere near. The curtain to his left started to move and he closed his eyes. There was another mumble that Ron now recognized. It was a silencing spell. Cold, clammy hands curled over his left hand. There was a ragged sort of breathing next to him. Puffs of air sounding very fast before slowing down and then repeating.

“Ron…” he heard a very raspy voice call out.

His eyes snapped open. He blinked a few times to clear his vision. The blond looked at him with huge silver eyes and tried to pull his hand away. Ron was fast, faster than he thought he could be in his circumstance, and caught the hand in a death grip.

“Draco,” he called back. The blond’s eyes flickered from side to side as he tried to wriggle out of his hand.

“Let go, Weasley,” he spat.

“So we’re really back to that?” Ron asked as he let Draco go. The blonde quickly stepped a couple of feet away from the bed. He kept glancing from between the door and Ron, who sat up shakily. Draco looked close to bolting.

“How are you?” Ron mumbled quickly and added, “How’s it going with Pansy?”

He must have sounded more snappish than he thought. Draco flinched and closed his eyes in resignation.

“We’re doing fine,” Draco replied. He gathered himself and reluctantly sat down on the metal chair next to the bed. “How about you? I heard Lavender singing sonnets about her wonderful WonWon.”

Ron felt the sharpness of Draco’s tone. His eyes shifted to inspect the curtains.

“Yeah. We’re peachy,” Ron said. Silence settled thick like dust in the library. Ron held his breath and waited for a swish of a cloak or the metal scraping of the chair. What he got instead was a low groan. He tentatively turned to face Draco. He was hunched over with his elbows no his knees and his face in his hands.

“I wanted to know how you were doing, not pick a fight with you,” Draco said in a muffled whine. Ron bit his lips.

“Why do you even care?” he spat out. He didn’t mean to say that. But like hell was he taking his words back. It took a while for Draco to answer.

“The poison was brewed last year and was meant to fester through the months,” Draco said at last. Ron’s eyes grew large at the implication.

“It was made with fresh dew drops from a yew tree harvested at full moon. Mother helped me gather various venoms from her most vicious plants,” Draco continued.

“You!” Ron growled. Draco had the shame to look frightened.

Ron pounced on him. He sent them tumbling to the floor. He gripped the other’s robes and yanked the other close to his face.

“Is this your revenge, you bloody idiot?!” Ron bellowed. His fist connected with the blond’s upper lip. Draco grabbed at his robes and deftly flipped them over.

“You weren’t supposed to drink it!” Draco yelled back. Draco’s fist sank into Ron’s stomach. Ron pulled a labored breath, curling around his injured anatomy. Draco seized Ron’s hair and yanked hard. Ron shouted at the pain and sent an errant kick, hoping to throw Draco off him. The blond let him go and scrambled far from the bed.

Ron whimpered and coughed as he clutched the side of the bunker. He threw a seething glare at the blond. There was a trail of blood and a blooming bruise on his lip.

“You’re going to kill Harry now like you promised?” Ron spat out, “Why the bloody hell are you telling me this?!”

Draco’s eyes frantically scanned the room. When silver orbs stopped to rest on him, Draco said, “Potter will die but not at my hands. The Dark Lord has another purpose for me.”

“ _Your Dark Lord_!” Ron hissed, “You’re still nothing but a puppet to him! And to your father! I thought better of you--!”

“He has my mother, Ronald.”

Ice travelled the length of Ron’s spine. Draco’s face was all scrunched up as if he would cry.

“I need to do this for my family. He will end us all,” Draco whispered.

Ron could not think of anything to say, to soothe or to comfort. Silence stretched between them. Ron tried to catch his breath and Draco tried to erase the expressions on his face.

“Who are you trying to kill?” Ron asked.

“I cannot say—“

“Will not—“

“I’m magically bound. I _cannot_ say,” Draco hissed.

 _This is it_ , Ron thought, _This is the end_. Time seemed to stand still. Ron thought his heart broke last year but now it’s breaking all over again. He let out a strangled sob.

“What you’re telling me,” Ron whined, “is that you have to kill someone…”

“Ordered to. Before the school year ends,” Draco said. Ron tried to fight the prickling sensation in his eyes. He let out a mumbled curse as he slipped climbing the bed.

“Do you… need help?”

Ron couldn’t even bear to look at Draco. He gave a court nod all the same. He wobbled for a moment longer before he felt cold, spindly hands pry him from the bed. He leaned on Draco and let himself be laid down on his bed. He made a point to turn away from Draco’s eyes.

“I never meant to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

Ron pretended not to listen. Draco shifted on his feet and began to move away. Ron’s hand shot out to grip his shoulder. Broken blue met clouded grey.

“Come here,” Ron said. Draco wavered. Then he dove in.

 

* * *

 

Ron allowed himself to be laid on the mattress as the tangy metal taste of blood entered his mouth. Draco sucked as his lip, slipping his tongue. Ron’s hands moved on its own, relearning the map of Draco’s body. His hands tried to figure out how to open the clasps of his robes all by themselves. Draco moved from his mouth to his neck, murmuring apologies all the while. Ron muttered forgiving words back. He took a deep breath of Draco’s hair. The familiar scent was both parts comfort and fear.

Draco pulled away, his eyes gleaming silver. “Are you sure?” he whispered.

“Yeah,” Ron answered, “Just… Just go slow. It’s been a while.”

Draco let out a breathy sound, pressing his body fully down on Ron’s. His hands frantically parted Ron’s blue pajama tops before shoving it off his shoulders. Draco followed his hands with his mouth, leaving trails of warmth and chill all over Ron’s chest. Ron forced his hand into the blond’s robes and met a nipple. Draco gasped and lifted himself off of the redhead only to plunder his mouth. Ron’s hands brushed one side of Draco’s robes off his shoulder. Unlike his hands, Draco’s body flared with heat. Ron hurried to remove his pajamas. Draco aided Ron by sliding his hands over his warm torso down to the waistband of his trousers. He slowly slid them off and Ron wriggled every which way to hasten the process.

Ron felt a bit of extra warmth on his cheeks at seeing his own cock already half-rigid and wanting. The head was reddening really quickly.

“Draco,” he called out.

The slytherin looked up with piercing grey eyes and nodded. He slowly made his way up to Ron’s mouth, kissing every bit of skin he could reach. Their lips were locked in a frenzy before long.

“I-I don’t know… where can we get…” Ron stuttered. Draco stopped doing the distracting thing to look at his face. His lips quirked in that smug expression as he waved a hand in the air before claiming Ron’s lips for another bruising kiss. They parted and Draco jumped off the bed to search the cupboard a few feet from them. Ron was afraid to let him out of his sight and ogled at the wizard’s obvious erection. A few moments later, Draco barked a triumphant laugh. He came back clutching a vial of some potion.

Ron watched with half-lidded eyes as Draco slowly removed his pajama pants, carefully avoiding his cock while mouthing wet kisses on his skin. The vial was opened and Draco poured a decent amount between his fingers. Ron raised his arms and Draco slipped in like a missing puzzle piece. Ron was ready when Draco pressed an eager kiss on his lips again. The blond snaked a hand around his cock and gave it a couple of tugs. Ron softly keened and pressed back on the bony fingers lightly pressing on his entrance. He felt a finger breach him. Maybe. It didn’t burn yet.

The finger moved around and thrusted in and out of him. Ron tried to relax and focus on the drag of Draco’s fist around his cock. Draco added a second finger and Ron gasped in pleasure. When the third finger breached him, Ron could not stop his hand from gripping Draco’s shoulders. Draco kissed him and stilled his fingers. He waited for Ron to nod before slowly and gently moving his fingers in and out of Ron’s arse. He tightened his fingers and made tantalizing rolls of his fist on Ron’s cockhead. Everything was starting to feel a tad bit too hot for Ron and he started to want more.

“I’m… It’s alright…” he sighed between pressed lips. Draco pulled out his fingers and poured more of the liquid in his hands. He thrust his fingers in again, moving around and scissoring. Ron let out a chocked gasp. When he opened his eyes again, he met curious grey orbs. He breathed in halting gasps and locked his arms around the blond’s neck.

“Quit fooling around,” he grumbled. Draco brushed over that spot again and Ron could not stop the low whine erupting from his throat. He tried to press back on the fingers, his hands clenching and unclenching on Dracos’ lopsided robes. He could feel Draco’s lips twisting into a smug smirk.

Draco spent a few more minutes to prepare him before pulling back and emptying the vial on his cock. In fits of desperation, Ron managed to pull away at the swathes of cloth covering the blond. His robes were bundled up on his belt and his trousers loosened. He pulled them down mid-thigh. Draco caught Ron’s intense blue stare. Ron nodded. The blond’s lips thinned and he laid a tentative kiss on Ron’s temple. Ron closed his eyes waiting for the blunt pressure. Draco leaned forward, capturing Ron in another heated kiss before breaching him.

Ron pulled in air through his nose. It has definitely been a while. He shuddered and gasped as Draco’s cock slid inside him. He only felt the burn despite the adequate preparation. The drag felt nearly the same as when they first started. When Draco gave a tentative thrust, Ron sobbed and hissed. He opened his eyes and met Draco’s burning gaze.

“Do you want me to pull out?” Draco said. Worry swam in his eyes.

“No,” Ron said, “Just give me a minute.”

Draco nodded and moved his hands, caressing the skin he could reach. He ran his palms over Ron’s chest, stomach and arms. He lowered himself on a nipple and sucked. The redhead’s trembling was familiar and addicting. He gave a few languid tugs on Ron’s cock, bringing him back to hardness.

Ron could feel the energy burning inside of him. It was warm everywhere. Draco’s hands left a trail of fire under his skin. His cock started to weep. Draco touched his inner thighs and he shivered.

“Move,” Ron said. He grabbed the back of Draco’s head to share another kiss. He felt more of the drag and less of the burn when Draco pulled out a bit. Then he rocked his hips back in. Ron gasped and shook. Draco kept close, hips moving in slow circles and barely thrusting.

Moans dripped from their lips. Draco barely brushed by Ron’s favored spot. Ron groaned and brought his right palm in short light taps on Draco’s back. Draco complies by thrusting with more intent. Ron had nearly forgotten about that habit.

They rocked together, moves getting more jerky and energetic by the minute. Ron growled in frustration and minutely budged his hips, chasing the light prods on his sweet spot. He tapped Draco’s shoulder again. Draco grunted before leaving Ron’s cock to hold his hips in place. Ron’s hands immediately wrapped around his cock, pulling it in desperate tugs in time to Draco’s timid thrusts.

Ron could feel the telltale signs. He felt his magic gather, strengthening and suffocating him. He felt it turning more volatile by the minute. Draco pulled back enough to thrust into him and when he did, he brushed exquisitely against Ron’s sweet spot. Ron moaned and hastened his fingers over his cock. He chased after that building pleasure and came. His release sprayed all over his torso and some got on Draco’s robes.

Ron was floating. His suffocating magic shattered like fine mist and spread itself around him. Ron quivered as Draco chased his own building pleasure. He felt the blond’s magic collecting around him, desperate for release. The dam broke and Draco thrust in frantically a few times before burying himself deep into Ron.

Draco’s magic shattered differently from Ron, as it always had. It broke like glass, shards digging outward before slowly coming back to him. Draco slumped down on Ron, his chest heaving with the effort of reeling both his magic and body in. Ron let out a startled whimper when he felt the shine of Draco’s magic in him.

“I missed you,” Draco said.

“Me too,” Ron replied. Draco pulled out as he lifted himself from Ron. He grimaced at the splatters on their chests.

“We made a mess,” Ron agreed. Draco groaned but when he looked at Ron, he let out a small laugh. Ron found himself laughing back.

“WonWon?” a squeaky sounding voice brought the lovers back to the world. Draco tucked himself in his trousers while Ron made a grab for his wand under the pillow. There were fast steps leading to his bed.

“WonWon, are you awake—“

“ _Petrificus Totalus!_ ”

Rons’ swift curse made Lavender straighten up and fall over. Ron’s breathing was erratic. Madame Pomfrey might have extended his curtains to give him more privacy but it still only covered the sides of his bed. He did not doubt what Lavender saw but he did hope—

“You don’t reckon she saw?” he asked, turning towards Draco. He wasn’t looking at him. His eyebrows were bunched together in deep thought.

“Have you, by any chance, learned how to cast a memory charm?” Draco questioned back. Ron shook his head.

“I guess I have to do it,” he said. He watched as Draco moved over Lavender. He absent-mindedly reached for a towel and a glass of water on his bedside table. He wiped the sticky seed from his chest using the soaked towel. He heard the mutterings of the memory charm. He was surprised when he heard Draco confound her as well. He pawed through the sheets for his pajamas and put his shirt on. By the time he was fixing his last button, Lavender stood up, her eyes unfocused and turned towards the doors.

Draco held out Ron’s pajama pants. He dutifully put them on. Draco had him tucked into bed, away from a wet spot. Ron worried his lower lip in an effort to find something to say. All the things he needed to let him know were things Draco did not need to hear. Not now.

“When will you be back?” Draco asked, breaking Ron’s thoughts. Ron picked at the threads of his blanket.

“By the end of the week,” he answered. He felt the shadows loom closer and the cold seep into his bones. He held out his arms for a third time that night. Draco rushed to his side and he engulfed him into the heat of his arms.

“Stay, Draco. Don’t do it,” he said.

“I can’t,” Draco said, his voice breaking. They pleaded with each other. Ron clutched at Draco’s robes and nuzzled his cheek. Draco tried to move away from the hug.

“But you’re not a murderer!” Ron protested. The prickling in his eyes came back and he found it harder to breathe. “I can’t let you—,” Ron started, his voice rising close to a wail.

Draco abandoned trying to extricate himself from the redhead and gathered Ron to himself. He hugged the redhead impossibly close. Ron took this as his defeat and cried. Draco pressed his lips on his temple. After a couple of minutes, Ron’s sobs quieted down and his grip slackened. He took to biting his lip to stop sniffling as Draco pried himself off. Ron rubbed his eyes with his fists.

“Go,” Ron heard himself say, “Just… go.”

“I’m sorry,” Draco whispered before hiding in his cloak and disappearing into the night. The door closed ominously.

Ron wasn’t a Gryffindor for nothing. He resolved to get to the bottom of this mystery. He won’t give up on Draco just yet.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Continuation of the previous fill.


	25. Gazing into each other’s eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> October 19, 2013

Sometimes, Harry dreaded visiting Ron at the Manor. Despite his (and everybody else’s) fears, Draco Malfoy had not done a single evil or overly nasty thing to any of Ron’s visitors. The prat still snapped at people or argued with Hermione but he had never uttered a derogatory word while in their presence. After the first few months of nearly daily visits, Draco even lost some of that haughty attitude and most of that ugly expression on his face. He stopped looking like he had dung under his nose. He also made it a point to drop by and show himself to guests even for a brief “hi-hello” and a handshake. Ron, from what Harry sees, seemed to be doing better. They still lied on the grass in the vast lawns of the Manor and chased snitches (and Lucius’ ghost peacocks) on occasion on broomsticks. Nothing much changed about him…

Except for moments like this.

Ron had taken to inviting Harry and Hermione for tea in one of the more welcoming sitting rooms of the Manor. The mornings were brisk because of the snow and the afternoons were freezing cold. They played wizards chess this weekend while Hermione lounged and read. (Private edits to the Advance Potion Making Textbook penned by a Malfoy Ancestor. Draco had graciously lent the book to Hermione when they had a tour of the library.) Muffy, the house elf, kept their supply of hot cocoa puffing hot and their cookies fresh. Ron joked about inviting them over for tea so he could eat more of Muffy’s cookies. Harry didn’t miss how Draco’s nose wrinkles when Ron said the name.

They were exchanging news about so and so. Ron had stopped receiving daily letters from Molly, something he was quite proud about. They then trailed off to less surprising news, like how the WWW was still raking in Galleons. They talked less as the game intensified. But when Ron abruptly stopped talking, Harry was forced to look up. Ron was staring at something behind him. He turned around and sure enough, Draco was there. They stared at each other with the same blank expression on their faces. Harry had the thought to wave a hand at Ron’s face when Draco smiled. It was the one where the skin near his eyes wrinkled. Ron matched it with one of his goofy ones.

Hermione coughed politely from her place on the sofa. Then she busied herself with the hot cocoa. Ron’s face exploded with pink to the tips of his ears. He missed Harry’s rook when he moved his king.

“Checkmate,” Harry said.

“What?” Ron dazedly replied.

“Check. Mate. My rook to your king,” Harry explained.

“Wait, what?!” Ron said as he read the board. His eyes flickered from piece to piece. A swish of a cloak proved to Harry that Draco moved over to their side of the room.

“It is a checkmate. Well done, Potter,” Draco drawled. Ron looked mutinous. Draco straightened up to address the entire room.

“It’s time for dinner. Why don’t you and Hermione join us? The house elves have been itching to cook for an audience of more than two,” Draco said.

Harry declined saying he had dinner plans elsewhere. Hermione was quick to follow him. They said their goodbyes and future invitations. (How Hermione had escaped with another book from Draco was still a mystery.) They left and parted ways.

Harry dreaded visiting the manor because he didn’t quite know what to do to a friend who was obviously and so deeply in love with an old nemesis.   


	26. Getting Married

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> October 19, 2013

Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Malfoy had row after row during the planning of the wedding. The two witches were adamant on their ideas about the ceremony. Ron did wonder once or twice if they would wed at all. However, it seemed like the witches had reached an impasse.

Ron was cornered multiple times by both witches during the season. Mostly they asked him what color he wanted the dress robes to be or how big the tables should be. He had walked off with at least one mother glaring at him before he learned to direct all wedding queries to Draco.

The blonde magnificently rose to the occasion, from choosing fabrics to arranging the seating. Besides, Ron seemed to have showed his fiancé a rather unappealing side of him. Ron was never allowed to arrange anything from daily flowers to the furniture ever again, with the exception of their bedroom.

Their mothers have come to some compromises out of respect to their (Draco’s) wishes. There would be a small ceremony followed by a bigger, more grandiose reception. To keep both families off the _color_ battle, Draco picked purple as a theme for the robes. Both parents were allowed to accessorize so Ron was looking forward to that. There were to be cream tables topped with fresh purple flowers. By that time, Ron had zoned out.

But he did have the power to stomp his foot down on the most appalling ideas he’s heard. There was one about a dress (not a dress robe but a real dress!) and a bouquet (changed to a corsage—no, boutonniere. An afternoon-long discussion about flowers was not worth getting this name wrong.) There was also talk of wearing circlets of tiaras but Ron stomped his foot on those too. Ron did accept wearing the Malfoy crest on his belt. It wasn’t a bother and didn’t offend his family.

Ron fiddled with his engagement ring. A simple band surrounded by clusters of green and red stones. Draco said they help channel the wearer’s magic. Ron tried to get the same ring for Draco. Now the tangled piece of metal will mean more than a promise once the month ends. Ron worried his lips with his teeth so he didn’t worry in his heart.


	27. On one of their birthdays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> October 19, 2013

Getting a Malfoy a gift was tricky business. Draco always handed Ron wondrous gifts during his birthdays. Expensive, too. Then Ron always needs to top that off in two months. Even if Ron knew how to bake sweets, he would still be no match against Narcissa’s tarts and crème brulees. It was especially embarrassing to have bought a scarf then have said scarf already hanging on his lover’s neck. It did prove he caught on to Draco’s exquisite taste in clothing but that’s beside the point.

Draco’s birthday was coming fast and he still had no idea what to give the blond. He had gotten by for a couple of years with using an old muggle trick and offering some, ahem, special night service. Those were extremely fun but he doubted if he could squeeze himself in those leather pants. It was sinfully tight and charmed to get tighter when worn. Ron didn’t exactly have the fund to buy a new one after Draco ripped part of the seams.

He was running out of options. He resigned himself to fate and walked into the apothecary.

 

* * *

 

It was late in the evening and dinner had just ended. Lucius had been insufferable, as always, but Narcissa had been wonderful and chatty. It helped Ron to know she dug her heel on Lucius sensitive foot multiple times through-out the appetizers all the way through the main course.

Draco’s Birthday dinner party earlier that week was an exhausting event. Juggling between Gryffs and Slyths proved to be too much for the redhead. Thank Merlin Pansy was there. Even if she turned her nose once she got a whiff of Ron’s gift for his fiancé.

Ron spent a good three days rooting for ashwinders before he found one in an abandoned wizards camp miles off the Malfoy Manor Park. He inspected the borders and the wards before spotting the slimy creature. Sure enough, it was an ashwinder safely nestled in magical ash. In some stroke of genius, Ron managed to freeze both ashwinder and eggs. Finding and charming bottles to hold the ingredients were easy enough.

Ron had a niggling doubt that, in the deepest corner of his heart, Draco might not like his gift. He might like the sentiment and the gift’s usefulness at some point but Ron could hear the blond’s derisive snort already. By the time dinner ended, Ron resolved to face his destiny like a Gryffindor. But he didn’t expect Draco bringing _that_ out.

“What’s that?” Ron blurted out.

“It’s _my_ birthday gift,” Draco smirked before tossing the material on his lap, “Go on. Change.”

“B-but,” Ron sputtered examining the material. “These are pants! Why’d you get— why do I have to wear it? And why is it missing…” Ron trailed off.

The pants were cool to touch. It was missing the crotch areas, both front and back. Ron squawked indignantly as he perused the costume, smooth as silk but sturdy as dragonhide. Draco snatched the parcel next to Ron and tore through the covers.

“Ashwinder eggs,” Draco sniffed.

“And the mother,” Ron added.

Draco shrugged and called for a house elf. Ron was so sure Draco would make the house elf (Mimi appeared this time) dispose his gift.

“Store this in my private stores. Be sure you store it properly,” Draco said and narrowed his eyes on Mimi. The house elf gave a shaky bow and cradled the bottles in her arms before popping off. Ron breathed a sigh of relief. The dragon had accepted his tribute. Draco turned to him and raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t see you changing,” he said. Ron scratched the back of his neck. He stared at the clothing for long moments.

“Ron. Stop making me wait,” Draco said.

“Why did you buy this?” Ron asked.

“I can buy myself a present, can’t I?” Draco said, “But it’s not whole if you don’t wear it.”

Ron thought about the cloth some more before shrugging and chucking his outer robe. Draco caught his wrist before he started on his inner robes.

“Do it slowly,” Draco said in a purr.

“Demanding prat,” Ron said back but he slowed down.

“I just have exact tastes,” Draco said before planting his bum on the armchair facing the bed.

 

* * *

 

Draco collapsed next to Ron, facing the gilded ceiling.

“Best birthday yet,” he breathed.

Ron groaned and shifted so he could give the blond a stunned look. He hummed contentedly as he turned over to look up, perhaps to see what Draco was seeing.

“Whatever you put in that potion, keep it. I don’t feel sore at all,” Ron triumphantly said.

Draco laughed as he turned to face Ron.

“Lover,” he started, “I’ll make you as many batches as you want. That was the final version… and tell me how you feel tomorrow. This might turn into another money spinner.”

“All for your libido,” Ron breathed. Draco brushed the hair sticking to Ron’s face before grabbing him for a quick kiss. They parted with a laugh. As they settled into a sleepy embrace, Draco moved his lips to Ron’s ear.

“You know, Ashwinder eggs are perfect for brewing aphrodisiacs?”


	28. Doing something ridiculous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> October 21, 2013  
> Ableist language from Ron

“This is insane!”

“Yes—“

“—outrageous!”

“Yeah—“

“—unbefitting of a Malfoy! Of two Malfoys!”

Ron let his husband whine and complain about how _this expedition is useless_ and _Luna is insane_.

“My dressrobes are ruined!”

“Draco, they’re not. You bought the best hunting gear in Diagon Alley,” Ron said.

“I should have bought them from Germany—Ugh!” Draco said as he fell an inch into the muddy soil.

“We could have been in Paris, Bulgaria, Sweden! Heck, even America if you wanted to! But no! We had to go to Australia. With Loony Lo— Luna. Damn it! Scamander shouldn’t leave her like this. We’re the ones suffering!”

Ron sighed has the rain pelted their hats and backs in splish, splash, SLAP! A leaf folds _at the top of their heads_ under the weight of the rain, soaking them completely.

“Great. Just great,” Draco grumbled from behind Ron.

Luna, due to some sick sense of humor, decided to spend her bachelorette party finding the Moon Frog during typhoon season in the wilderness of Australia. Harry and Hermione came and brought Ginny and Percy with them. Ron couldn’t very well refuse the invitation them. As much as he loves Luna’s brand of crazy, she’s still a bit wacko to Ron. He forced one foot ahead of the other as they traversed the forest.

“Ronald, give me one reason to not apparate out of this blasted jungle,” Draco said behind him.

“Ron sighed. There was no helping his husband when he had worked himself up to such a state. Ron spied a clearing up ahead.

“Let’s try and get over to that clearing,” Ron said.

“The things I do for you Ginger, the _things_ I do!”


	29. Doing something sweet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> October 24, 2013

“...Since Granger won’t help, you came to me?” Pansy asked the redhead sitting across her.

“Y-yeah,” Ron sputtered, taking great care not to spill his tea. Pansy’s calculating gaze settled on him.

“Why don’t you ask him? There’s no need to fish for favors with Draco. Especially not you,” Pansy said. She pointed her pinky at Ron and took a sip of her tea.

“It’s not for anything at all!” Ron protested and turned pink all over, “I just wanted to do something different…”

“Must do something to spice up our boring lives,” Pansy said with her mouth tilted in a smirk. Ron went impossibly redder. When the silence dragged on uncomfortably long, Pansy took it on herself to calm the redhead.

“Just be yourself, Ron,” she said, patting the man’s shoulder, “You’ll only worry Draco if you suddenly became as sweet as Theo, or as cultured as Blaise,” she said. The redhead was pale now, his eyes quite defeated. Pansy leaned over and place her mouth close to his ears.

“You can always…” she said and began a plan for the Weasley.

 

* * *

 

Ron strode over to Draco’s study. The blond’s clients stopped talking as the warlock hastily made his way to his husband. His face was flushed and he hesitated before leaning down to kiss Draco lightly on one cheek. He deposited a box in front of the blond before hurrying off the way he came. The stunned men ogled at the retreating redhead and shifted their curious gaze to the Head of House. Draco opened the package. He smiled and retrieved the note. However, after reading said note, his eyes turned to cold stone. The meeting was adjourned immediately and the wizards didn’t ask why Draco was quick to throw them out.


	30. Doing something hot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> October 24, 2013 NSFW

“Yes! Right there— _Merlin_!”

“Draco… ngh! Draco’s a fine name…”

“Draco… D-draco…”

“Ron… Come on…”

Draco’s rhythm faltered as he felt that familiar tight feeling in his abdomen. Ron was on his hands and knees, eagerly pushing back against the blond’s thrusts. Skin hit skin with loud slapping sounds. Draco nlindly groped for the redhead’s bobbing erection. He fumbled for it and yanked twice. Ron mewled and the angle changed. Draco found himself pounding Ron’s arse nearly sideways as the redhead lost one of his limbs to stroke his cock. Draco’s hand retreated to carry his weight against the mattress.

“Ron… Tell me you’re close… Tell me…” he gasped.

“Almost there… Take me, take me--!” Ron said as he stilled. He shuddered through his orgasm. Draco pounded. A couple more times before finishing. Ron’s hips didn’t stop twitching and pushing back. Draco continued his minute thrusts till he was sure he couldn’t come anymore. His limp cock slipped out on its own as he peppered the freckly back with kisses. The body beneath him heaved and he matched his breathing with Ron’s.

“Are you alright?” he murmured in the crook of Ron’s neck and shoulder.

“Yeah...” Ron muttered back. He wheezed against the pillow. Draco turned over and brushed the hair sticking to his face. Ron crawled to snuggle beside the blond, his nose poking the tiny hairs on the man’s nape, or maybe it was the other way around? Draco faced him and they shared a long kiss. By the end of it, two pairs of half-lidded eyes, on pair a clear blue and the other melting silver, meet and close at the same rhythm. Meeting and closing, meeting and closing…

“This’ll be awful to clean up tomorrow,” Ron’s hoarse voice floated over them. Draco laughed under his breath as he tightened his arms around his Ginger.


End file.
